Smooth Runs The Water Where

Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

What Many Men Desire--that 'many' May Be Meant By The Fool Multitude That Choose By Show, Not Learning More Than The Fond Eye Doth Teach, Which Pries Not To Th' Interior, But Like The Martlet Builds In The Weather On The Outward Wall, Even In The Force And Road Of Casualty.

Temptation Is The Fire That Brings Up The Scum Of The Heart.

Virtue Itself Scapes Not Calumnious Strokes.

Unless The Old Adage Must Be Verified, That Beggars Mounted, Run Their Horse To Death.